Laments & Observations

Friday night, after Brian intuitively taped an entire season of a show he had a strong feeling I’d like, we got into an actual argument over who in the household introduced The Walking Dead into the Favorite Show category. After giving him full credit for Breaking Bad, I tried to remind him of the circumstances surrounding the beginning of the zombie show. Just to egg me on (I think), he laughingly disagreed. I got so pissed, I heaved a gigantic, exaggerated sigh, grabbed my lemon water (I’ve heard it boosts metabolism; so far I can’t tell) and went up to read in bed. There’s that moment you know you’ve over-reacted but pride prevents you from conceding you’ve been an idiot and moving past it. By the time he came to bed, I was more than over it and we “made up,” by which I mean we totally did it. Which actually didn’t surprise me in the least since I was wearing my sexy micro-fleece Grinch pajama pants (inside out, no less). After relaying the story to a friend the next day she said, “I’d say your marriage is in pretty good shape if those are the kinds of things you argue about.” I hadn’t thought of that, but she had a point. Good to know.

Ten years ago nowish, at approximately 5:30pm EST, I learned the very upsetting news my husband was having an affair. The subject has been extensively written about and examined, both here and everywhere else, but with all the fanfare surrounding the ten year anniversary of 911, this has been on my mind a lot more than usual over the past week or so. A decade is one of those substantial markers, where you say It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years already.

Ten years ago tonight I sat in frozen horror, not by what was going on in the background on TV, but what was happening in my living room. To find out your spouse is having sex with someone else is one thing; to find out he’s sad, embarrassed, ashamed but not ready to stop is an entirely different thing altogether. That forces you to think things like the life you’d planned for is over and it’s time to form a new plan. To think about being *that* couple; the one who lived happily together for years, got married and didn’t make it past their second anniversary. Breaking it to parents and friends. Who would get custody of the way-too-loved dog. All those thoughts went through my head that night but I remember the one that upset me the most was how the national tragedy was causing loved ones to draw closer together but how all of a sudden I felt utterly alone. Also how I felt like an asshole for having such a trite, assinine problem in the face of what so many other people were dealing with that day. Guilt never leaves me for very long.

It’s not productive to dwell too much on things like that, or healthy. But I wish I could let my 31-year-old self know that night what would be happening on the night ten years from then. How the still-too-much-loved dog and I would greet the husband on the front porch with kisses as he arrived home from work with candy and a flower for me (it’s sort of a twisted joke he brings me a present every September 12th), how we stood in the yard while he threw the dog’s tennis ball talking about how our days went. The boxes in every room that we’re packing every day to move soon into the house I’ve always dreamed of living in. Together. Happy.

I’m always a cautious happy, because that’s me. But on that night when I wondered if I’d ever be able to be in any way happy again, it makes me really thankful to be where we are tonight, doing nothing special but doing it together.

There’s no turning back now: yesterday Brian paid a significant chunk of cash to get the key to the new house and today we’re bringing the first of the boxes over. (An aside: we’ve packed around fifteen boxes comprised of only books and that’s barely made a dent – what the hell? It’s like they mutate.) We were talking about the plans for today last night and while he was listing all the crap that has to happen over the next few weeks, I interrupted him to say, “This is literally a dream of mine that’s coming true.” He replied with what I considered to be one of the sweetest things he’s ever said to me: “I know; that’s why we’re doing this.”

It’s not as though he doesn’t want to move, but honestly he would’ve been okay not to. Between a slightly more expensive rent and the family politics that will generate some fallout, he’s been a little more stressed than I have over this whole thing. He suffers a little more from inertia than I do at times. This current house is the longest we’ve stayed in any one place, coming in right at four years and while he made it clear he never wanted to buy this place or settle here long-term, he would’ve been fine staying awhile longer. My stubborn stance of this new situation literally falling into our laps won him over, but I also was adamant he be on board with the move or it wouldn’t happen. No house is worth him being unhappy to me.

What this also feels like, a little, is a trade-off. We haven’t talked about the kid thing for awhile but the more time passes where nothing is done about it, the closer I get to accepting it not ever happening. Does any material thing make up for that – a new car a few months ago, a new house now? Obviously not. But with every significant financial decision we make, in my mind it nags me that this takes us further away from any kind of Let’s Try to Get Us a Kid plan. And I’ve been trying really hard to figure out if I can finally put the idea to rest. Mental lists of friends who are leading happy lives sans children. How traveling, both by myself and with him takes no more planning than making time in our schedules. And soon, waking up every morning to have coffee on a deck that’s right off of the kitchen that overlooks the yard I got married on next to my favorite lake.

I wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t that nagging voice whispering to me, but I’m trying really hard to silence the bitch for good.

Funny thing about being unemployed – Sunday late afternoons/early evenings still fill me with a morbid, creeping feeling of dread. Not surprising, since I’ve always had the Sunday Willies no matter what was going on in my life. I think that may be why I ended up loving The Sopranos (and Mad Men and Breaking Bad and Family Guy etc.) so much; ah, the mind-numbing comfort of television. I’m thinking if I do a quick search of Sunday night shows in the history of television from the late 1970’s until now, I’d bet a good many of them have made my favorites list. Intriguing.

I’m not the only one with Sunday Night-itis either; my sister knows what I’m talking about.

This week I have three interviews scheduled, one of which I completed yesterday. Is there anything more insidious than a job interview? After going to the monthly therapist appointment, it became apparent the similarities between a job interview and talking one-on-one to your shrink. In both cases, all attention is focused intensely on you. You’re being questioned and then worry about what the answers you give could mean to you. You’re being judged (and we all know your therapist judges you – I mean, come on) and analyzed. The only real difference is how I feel afterwards: the therapy makes me feel mostly positive and reaffirmed, while I spend the hours after the interviews going over all the things I wish I would’ve said and berating myself for being a dorky moron.

And I swear, if one more person asks me where I want to be five years from now this is the answer I’m giving: At the Botox doctor.

Brian, who I’ve many times established is a way more laid back and positive person than myself, is in no hurry for me to rush going back to work. He’s enjoying the fruits of the stay-at-home wife, including the thoughtfully prepared dinners that are ready soon after he gets home and all the clean laundry that is not only clean but also actually put away. I enjoy it for the most part as well, but I’d be having even more fun if I knew what the time frame I’m going to have was. If I knew for sure that sometime in the next few weeks I’ll be reporting to a new job, the next few weeks would be fantastically stress-free. But we all know that’s not the way things work, especially if you’re living my life.

One thing I’m really thankful for though – if you have to be unemployed, Spring is a very pleasant time to do it. And anyway, I’m not at all attractive during the Summer months, what with the make-up that slides off my face, the neverending war against the frizz and light colored, Summer-appropriate clothing that is NOT my preferred style in any way. I look best in dark colors and mostly all covered up. For many reasons, here’s hoping the Spring version of me gets hired, so by the time Summer version arrives it’s too late and they’re already stuck looking at me every day.

I feel simultaneously amazed it’s already been nine years since September 2001 and also like it just happened. I guess that’s a fairly common thing. And selfishly, this anniversary always brings about other, more selfish feelings of unpleasantness, as it was September 12, 2001 the day I found out about Brian and the other woman. Last night during a bout of morbidness, I was thinking about whether or not Brian ever thinks about her (he’s human, so the answer to that would be yes) and when he does, what does he think about now about that whole thing. I still sometimes talk to the guy I passed my time with during our separation, but at this point there are no romantic feelings left, probably because I was never in love with him to begin with. It says a lot about Brian’s character that he’s aware of this and doesn’t seem bothered by it…although I’m sure it’s probably not his favorite either.

One of my friends said, But how would you feel if Brian still talked to HER? Well, okay – and this sounds like a lame justification but it’s different. He had a brief but intense relationship with her, whereas mine was more of a friendship that turned into something physical and that was mostly to help my damaged ego at the time. I never once considered ending my marriage to be with the other guy (I’ve had The Other Guy by the Little River Band in my head all week – coincidence, I think not), whereas Brian seriously entertained thoughts like that about her. Shudder.

The Redneck Couple friends of ours finally made it official with a divorce a few weeks ago (everyone who knows them is very relieved) and we were talking about it the other day. Once you bring lawyers into it and have the actual papers drawn up; well, that’s about as final as you can get. For months Nick tried his hardest to convince Sheri he’d change – stop drinking and smoking (tobacco and other substances), cajoled, threatened, plead his case to her mom and in a final stab of desperation got her name tattoo’d on his NECK. Sheri’s brother had the best comment about that: “Well THERE’S a perfect way to save a troubled marriage.” While Brian and I had some serious arguments and hurt feelings and crying marathons, we agreed the other day neither one of us ever came close to calling a lawyer. As messed up as everything was, I guess we both kind of knew if we rode it out for awhile we’d end up back together. Obviously that’s what happened, so in retrospect thank God.

It’s amazing the things you can remain intact through.

Today, nine years later, I can honestly say I would never have been able to picture back then. He’ll be waking up soon, singing and getting his freshly washed Gamecocks jersey on. Friends of his will be coming over this afternoon to watch the game with him and it’ll be his typical fun Saturday in Fall. I will be heading out later to drive a mere half mile to go see Kid Rock, who’s unbelievably playing a concert for the troops stationed here at Fort Jackson. So my day is going to be rather fun as well. It’s funny – my first ever blog post (on MYSPACE, my God) was about a Kid concert I’d just seen. I think that had been the fourth time I’d seen him and this is the eighth. Hi, I’m a well-adjusted super mature adult.

Those old scars will never fully heal, but maybe they’re not supposed to. If they serve to just remind me how grateful I am that we survived something like that, well good.

Has anyone seen that new show on the History Channel called Swamp People? I know, the name is a little off-putting. But as someone who will now apparently watch reality shows about ANY type of job whatsoever (I blame Deadliest Catch for this), I have to say it’s pretty entertaining – who wouldn’t enjoy watching some grizzled Cajuns hunt alligators in the Lousinana swamp? Last night we saw I think what was the second episode, and it brought up a discussion that’s been held several (hundred) times in our house: Brian’s career choices.

When I met him he was a 23-year-old long-hair working with a crew that applied stucco to newly built homes. Kinda like drywall but for the exterior and it’s bumpier. He’d been at it for several years by that time and was doing well enough that he’d been out from under his parents’ rule and assistance for about five years. He told me then: I’m not the type of person who will ever be able to work in an office, sitting at a desk. Sure, fine, whatever – you have long hair and you love to read; what do I care about your job.

After a couple more years of it though, he was burnt out, so it was decided he’d go to school. Golf course maintenance was the most logical choice, as my dad, who was was a teaching pro, had talked it up as a great career for someone who likes working outside but also someone he would like to help support his daughter.

Halfway through school Brian realized studying plants, flowers, trees and chemicals was more interesting than simply turfgrass, so he switched his major to landscape. I think it was a good choice for him, as he’s been pretty satisfied with it over the years and has continued his education with it, aquiring certifications and things like that. He seems, from what I can tell, to be pretty happy in his current job.

There was one little hiatus though, for about a year when he went way way down to South Florida (far away from me) and worked as a commerical fisherman. And this is the job that he loved more than anything he’s ever done, before or since. The only reason he’s not doing it still is because I flat refused to move down there – my goal had always been to come back HERE, not go farther south. If you’ve ever been to Fort Myer’s you’d understand what I’m talking about. And because he was gone long periods of time, it wasn’t sustainable for more than the year or so he did it. I’d been happy to support him in the endeavor because I knew how happy he was, but after awhile it had to stop.

GUILT. To this day every time we’re watching one of those stupid shows or something about fishing comes up in real life, I feel horrible. I know and appreciate how rare it is to work at a job you truly love. I’ve been gone from the one I loved for three years now and still miss it every day, so I can relate. And no, there aren’t any opportunities for him to fish (for a living) where we live now – we’re two hours from the ocean and freshwater fishing doesn’t provide any financial gain (unless you’re one of those amazing bass guys who do nothing but enter and win tournaments but that’s kind of like being a professinal bowler – there aren’t too many who can make that work).

I know he likes being home with me every night; the separation had started to get to him toward the end of that time as well. He likes my cooking and his Fox News and daily football stats and the PlayStation. But I also know for certain part of him that wishes he could go out into the wilderness for months at a time and shoot and skin whatever he’d eat for dinner that night. It runs all up and down and through his dad’s side of the family and some of them do devote a lot of their free time to hunting and fishing and sleeping in tents. Of course for them it’s a hobby and not a career, which helps.

I don’t know; there’s not really any solution to it. Besides wanting a family, I’d say this ranks up there pretty high on the list of Life’s Disappointments. Which I realize is obviously part of life, blah blah. But I still wish there was a way I could figure out how to make some of these things attainable for us. Most of us have to work but I wish more of us could love it as much as those lucky few do.

Don’t say anything, but I bought Brian a naughty magazine as a surprise stocking stuffer. (And no, I can’t write that without thinking, “Heh heh – I bet after that he’ll stuff my stocking”) Besides a subscription to Playboy that has recently lapsed (and by the way Hef, sending me renewal notices starting three months after we got the first issue is a really quick way to piss me off and you were already on my shitlist for letting Holly get away), it’s been awhile since I’ve purchased anything naked-related, so I was shocked, SHOCKED, to see that the price for one magazine was $11.99. I relented because well for one thing, this is actually a Hustler and I suppose the ratio goes up according to how much action there is and also it includes a bonus dvd – oo-la-la!

I had this whackjob of a friend once who completely flipped out when she found out I “let” Brian look at those kinds of magazines. Let him. I never realized I was in charge of what he can or cannot look at. This girl wasn’t a religious fanatic, or anything like that – she was just one of those weirdos who freaked the hell out if she and her husband were out in public and an attractive woman came within a three mile radius of her eyesight. Her husband wasn’t the type to ogle other women; in fact he went out of his way NOT to notice anyone, lest feel the wrath of Crazypants, and always tried to let her know she was beautiful, the only woman for him, blahblahblah. Of course irony won out in the end like it always does and she ended up cheating on him with three or four guys in the course of about a year, one of them being his brother.

I will admit that of course I have some insecurites. I’ve always pretty much assumed that comes along with being a human and a female. But getting seriously pissed at Brian if a pretty girl walks by? I just don’t have that kind of time. We kind of moved past that when both of us slept with other people and then decided to stay married anyway. And anyway, what usually happens with us is like a little private fun joke: the woman passes by and Brian looks at me because he knows I’m looking at him and smiling, then he smiles at me and I say, “What are you smiling about?” and he says, “What are YOU smiling about?” and so on. It’s retarded and fun, like most relationships’ little games are. I don’t know; I guess I just have a pretty laid back attitude about all that stuff. Especially pictures in a magazine or images on a TV screen. Some people aren’t comfortable with it; I am – pretty simple.

Tomorrow is my last day of work and then it’s sweet vacation action for the next seventeen days. I’m pretty excited. Of course I have a list of stuff I want to get accomplished in that time, but considering a week or so will be spent down in the Sunshine (and still stupid hot) State, we’ll see how much actually gets done. I know I will be dragging my warm & toasty ass out of bed bright and early Monday morning to hopefully finish up my shopping.

Which reminds me of a question. If you’re a dude (or just know what dudes like), what’s a good ten dollarish gift I can buy for the family gift swap? I have the girl thing already (a candle – mindless and boring but effective) but I’m downright stumped as to what would be a good cheap man gift.

I really wanted to post this the other day, considering Friday was the day of our actual anniversary. Stupid work and chores – always getting in the way of the important stuff.

A decade is a long time, so I was curious to see the state of things as they were the month and year we got married – October, 1999. Some interesting stuff came up:

– Bill Clinton was just finishing up his time of getting blown in the Oval office.

– “Higher” by Creed was number one. I still love that song.

– Fight Club and Being John Malcovich were released. We saw Fight Club in the theater shortly after we got married and it blew us away with its awesomeness. Brian’s seen Malcovich and really liked it but I never have.

– Britney Spears was on the cover of the Rolling Stone, the Rolling Stone, the cover of the…dammit – now I’ll have that in my head the rest of the day.

– The Mets beat the Diamondbacks in Game 4 of what almost became a Subway Series, but then that didn’t happen until the following year. And then the Yankees beat them, dammit.

– Global Warming was still being called the “Greenhouse Effect” – hee!

– And the most important thing: Kim & Brian got married. Here is where I’d like to ask you to pretend I’ve uploaded the picture of the Holiday Inn sign where my awesome cousin had the hotel put “Kim & Brian are getting married” on the sign for us. It truly was an amazingly fun time. A couple of other random shots from the day:

That’s four-year-old Elizabeth, my flower girl, dancing with us to “Cowboy” by Kid Rock. A particularly favorite moment for me. And the top picture is one of about five thousand we took standing on his dad’s dock surrounded by our friends and family. The leaves hadn’t changed yet like I’d wanted them to and the sky was overcast that day, but everyone who was there tells me they had a pretty gol-darned good time. So did we.

So now we’re heading into our next decade as an old married couple. I can only hope the next one is as full of fun, joy, laughter and adventure as the first one was. Maybe with just a little more disposable income.

My favorite month of the year is almost upon us and I’m still a little phlegmy (least favorite word in the English language, but apt description) but mostly giddy it’s finally here. I have some stuff I’m really excited about coming up this month, mine and Heather’s favorite holiday notwithstanding.

1. Celebrating Ten Years of Wedded Bliss – how is that even possible? Yes, there was that unfortunate nine month period when we were ON A BREAK, but other than that, ten years of non-stop togetherness and not a homicide to be found. It’s really amazing to me. And you might think it’s a coincidence that my anniversary falls during my favorite month of the year, but it is not – I planned it this way for a reason. Not only did I want my outdoor wedding to be decorated with nature’s show of Carolina Blue sky and red, yellow and orange gently falling leaves, but to be able to celebrate it every year during this time as well. See, that’s me – always thinkin’. Except for the fact on October 9, 1999, all the leaves were still green and on the trees and it was overcast all day. Best ever. Not to mention I happened to pick the busiest, most stressful month out of Brian’s college career to take a week off to come up here from Florida and get married. I didn’t plan it that way on purpose, but of course that’s the way it worked out. He likes to remind me of that every now and then and I’m not sure why. Did it work out in the long run? Yes it did, so shut it. And happy anniversary. I didn’t plan to get married on John Lennon’s birthday either, but that also worked out just fine. Sharon Osbourne’s too. Random.

2. The LEAFestival – is counting as our anniversary trip, even though it falls a week after the actual anniversary. I’m ridiculously excited to be going camping in the NC mountains. I’m NOT ridiculously excited that Delorme is already giving me rules to follow. Today he called to let me know there would be two more couples joining our group (cool) so that I need to adjust the amount of chili I’m making to accommodate four more people (still cool) (everyone takes turns making a meal for the group), and to make sure to provide cheddar cheese and oyster crackers to go with it because they’re so much better than Saltines (Not cool). Okay, first of all – duh, of course I’ll be having the cheese to go with the chili; he used to live with me, so he should know that. Second of all, and I told him this, I usually make cornbread to go with it as well, not that he remembered that either. Third of all – I’m going to punch him in his mouth if he thinks he’s going to order me around all weekend. While on the phone he also told me I have to buy long johns right away. I politely let him know I already own them, but thanks for the tip. Oh hell no. Aw HALE NAW. I can already tell I’ll be hanging with Joan or Brian or some hippies I just met much more than I will him if this is how he’s going to be. Let’s hope it isn’t. But it’s good to have a contingency plan just in case. Stranger hippies – excellent.

Family Trip to Disney – I found out the other day my cousin from NY and his family won’t be able to make it this year and that makes me very sad. But Halloween in Disney, especially in the camp ground Fort Wilderness is so much fun, it’s still going to be a great time and I can’t to see the rest of my family again. This time Brian will be there, so even better. We haven’t decided where exactly we’ll be sleeping yet for that trip, but it’s possible we’ll use our tent again and if so, damn twice in one month after not using it for a couple of years. Exciting. We need a new air mattress, which I might be buying today if I feel like dealing with K-fart or the Deathstar after work today. George offered up this nasty old thin, ripped piece of foam to use to sleep on and we politely declined. I mean…come on, George. Thank you anyway, but just for practicality’s sake – it’s going to be in the 40’s and possibly even 30’s up there at night; the farther off the ground I can manage to sleep, the better. Even though I WILL BE WEARING LONG JOHNS, DELORME, DON’T WORRY!!!

This is a blatant cry for help. Okay, or maybe I’m just looking for some ideas.

I’ll try to keep this brief and to the point.

This coming October is our ten year anniversary – whoo! Instead of presents, I’ve been saying for months I’d rather DO something special, take a trip somewhere – and I’ve been heavily hinting about the North Carolina mountains. So far he’s been agreeable, but that’s usually the case during the tentative stages of any plan. Something else to consider is that we already have another trip scheduled: Disney at the end of the month for a few days with my family, the annual reunion thing we do every year. Which I’m also looking very forward to and so is he.

This morning a friend of ours popped online and we chatted for awhile. This is my ex-dude, the one we still socialize with every so often. Every year for the past decade or so, he’s been going to this arts and music festival up in, what do you know, the mountains in North Carolina. It’s called the L.E.A.F (Lake Eden Arts Festival) and he’s been bugging us to go for like, forever. Keep in mind, this is a person I went to a lot of concerts with, including the big Woodstock reunion in 1994 and another music festival in Florida called Livestock. (Yes, Livestock – don’t hate; if it wasn’t for that, I never would have seen fantastic 90’s bands like Every Mother’s Nightmare and Gene Loves Jezebel). He knows I love nothing more than a bunch of hippies getting together to camp, ingest questionable substances and listen to music for days on end. Not to mention this thing is happening exactly WHERE I’d love to be and WHEN I’d love to be there.

The problem lies in the fact of the Disney trip. I can clearly hear Brian now: “We can afford to do one or the other, but not both and I don’t want to cancel the family trip.” Well, but that’s not a really strong argument because according to what Delorme was saying and in checking the website, this trip would be very affordable. I mean yes, you have to buy tickets, but other than that it’s camping. We already have a tent and camping supplies. Everybody chips in on the food and drink. Delorme also said we could carpool up there to obviously save on gas, etc.

Okay so here’s my strategy. Obviously with these types of things, timing is everything. A lesser experienced female would have already called him at work and excitedly started in with the “Please, please?” thing. Which is never a good idea. It’s a rookie mistake and I’ve made it before. But I’ve learned many things over the years and know a lot more things go my way when I ask for something under the following circumstances:

We’re both home from work

He’s showered, is refreshed and cooled off

He’s been well fed (so glad I remembered to marinate a steak for tonight)

He’s relaxed and in nighttime happy mode – and if I have to sacrifice some free time to make sure he’s relaxed as possible, (*Cough – Bjob – cough*) well then I’m more than willing to do so

That’s how I’m going to handle it tonight and I guess we’ll see what happens. But like I said, if you have any additional ideas – I’m sure you’ve convinced your S.O. to do something a time or two – I’d love to hear about it. If only for the amusement factor alone, which is to say you won the debate and got your way.